by AC Cobble
“How many of you are there? I see four. I gotta fight all four?” Rhys was squinting toward the three men and holding up his hands in a boxing stance.
“Look now,” said the man who had been called general. “This fellow is too drunk to see straight. This is not right.”
The crowd chimed in with a chorus of boos until an icy look from the man silenced them. They were there to see blood. If it waited until tomorrow, in the sober light of day, this duel might not happen.
Saala slipped from Ben’s side and stepped into the circle. “I believe this man has given Lord Fredrick cause. It is a sensitive matter, and there is a lady involved. We can settle it this evening.”
The general appraised Saala. “And who are you?”
“I am the man’s travelling companion. I can serve as his second.”
“Aye, he’s my second. Couldn’t have a better man for it either!” crowed Rhys. “Although, I’m not sure it’s the little fella’s woman I was with. She’s a lady right? The wench I was bedding certainly wasn’t acting like a lady. Ladies don’t have you bend them over and make you call them a filthy whore, do they?” Rhys peered quizzically at Saala.
Lord Fredrick lunged again toward Rhys and was barely caught by the other man holding him.
The general’s shoulders visibly slumped and he stepped into the center of the circle. “It appears that despite my reservations, this will happen tonight.” He nodded toward Saala. “Since you know this man and have agreed to proceed as his second, I will take the same role for Lord Fredrick. We will continue until both parties are satisfied or one combatant is unable to continue. You may choose your weapons.”
A heavy broadsword was passed to Lord Fredrick and a woman hurried forward. The same woman Ben had seen Rhys in the closet with. Ben groaned. It seemed this woman did have a dangerous husband. The man did not appear to have the stature of a warrior, but his sword had telltale nicks in it that only came from use.
“You don’t need to do this,” pleaded the woman. “This man is nothing! He’ll likely be hung as a thief or worse by next week. I was stupid!”
Fredrick backhanded the woman across the face and sent her tumbling into the crowd. “If the man was nothing, it should have been left as a diversion while I was at sea. I will deal with you later.”
He swung his broadsword through the air as if to reacquaint himself with the balance and turned toward Rhys. “You should have left it as well. I could understand you thinking you could get away with this while I was gone. I could have understood it as a mistake and maybe just left you a cripple. But tonight? That is too much. For that, you will die.”
The general was slowly pivoting, keeping himself between Fredrick and Rhys. He turned toward Rhys. “Do you have a blade?”
Rhys just stared back at him.
An enthusiastic young man from the crowd stepped forward, proffering a slender rapier and smirking. “Use this, good man. She’s served me well.”
Saala glanced down at the delicate weapon then back up to meet Rhys’ eyes.
The crowd was turning nasty.
Rhys swished the rapier back and forth, not hearing the hoots and calls from around the circle. These people wouldn’t be satisfied until they got blood.
Ben grabbed Amelie’s arm and whispered, “He’s going to get killed! That rapier won’t stand against a broadsword. It will snap the first time they make contact. I don’t understand why Saala is letting this happen. We have to stop it!”
“I think you’re about to be surprised,” answered Amelie in a hushed tone. She nodded to the opposite side of the circle. “See Lady Towaal over there. I saw her gesture to Saala before he stepped in. Rhys is her hired man and she’s been with him for months, if not longer. She doesn’t look worried to me. Think about it. He’s good enough to get hired by a mage. I suspect he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“I don’t know,” worried Ben. “He doesn’t even look like he can see straight. And I’m not sure if Lady Towaal cares about anyone other than herself. And sometimes you,” he added. He had to admit though, Amelie made a point.
Towaal was casual chatting with another woman next to her. She held up her wine glass, swirled it around, sniffed it, and pointed to it. The woman nodded and did the same with her own glass before taking a sip and remarking back to Towaal with a smile.
The general brought everyone’s attention to the circle when he loudly declared, “When I step away, you may begin. Remember, if one combatant becomes incapacitated, it will stop there.” He looked directly at Fredrick when he said it.
The crowd quickly shuffled back a few steps. They may be drunk and blood thirsty, but no one wanted to be too close when Fredrick started swinging that broadsword.
When the general stepped back, Fredrick howled a battle cry and charged. Rhys was barely paying attention and staggered out of the way. Fredrick’s first wild swing whistled by where Rhys’ head had been a heartbeat before.
“Wanda, Wanda. I can’t believe he hit you. I told you he was wrong for you!”
With a start, Ben realized that Rhys was talking to Fredrick’s wife.
A man next to Ben started laughing. “That drunk is about to get his head cut off and doesn’t even realize it.”
The man was right. Fredrick was slowly approaching this time. There wouldn’t be another wild swing that missed the mark. He walked up right behind Rhys, who was still imploring the Lady Wanda. Fredrick raised the heavy sword above his head. This was certain to be a fatal blow, and Rhys didn’t even realize the fight had started.
“Damn it, man!” shouted the general.
Fredrick started his downward blow and Rhys spun toward the sound of the general’s voice. Each heartbeat stretched into a dozen as Ben watched in horror. Fredrick’s face was strained into a gleefully wicked mockery of a grin. Rhys looked confused when his gaze caught the man preparing to chop him in two. But as Rhys turned, seemingly almost by accident, the thin blade of the rapier rose in his hand. Ben could barely see the glint of torch light on the narrow steel as Rhys looked from Fredrick to the general.
Fredrick was halfway through his stroke when the rapier pierced his chest. Rhys wasn’t even looking at the man, but the motion of his turn had enough force to stick the razor sharp blade deep into Fredrick’s body. The crowd gasped in unison when they saw the bloody tip slide out of his back.
Fredrick’s broadsword clattered harmlessly to the ground and his corpse slumped onto Rhys’ shoulder. Rhys pushed the man away, eyes darting around the suddenly silent circle. He blurted, “What the hell! I think that man was trying to kill me!”
9
The Road II
The next morning, the Citadel was a beehive of activity for the start of the Conclave. Ben, Rhys, and Renfro departed Whitehall in the confusion. Dueling was legal in the eyes of the king and the law when proper procedure was followed. Rhys’ duel with Lord Fredrick had been presided over by one of the Citadel’s most esteemed generals and had been witnessed by half of the upper class in Whitehall. There was no doubt about the legality. That didn’t mean it was smart to hang around town after publicly killing a highborn. There were worse consequences than prison time when a commoner mixed in the business of lords.
The only road out of Whitehall started from an imposing stone arched steel gate on the mountainside of the Citadel. The bulky fortifications made more sense when viewed from the mountain. Though, it would be nearly impossible to mount an attack from that side. Ben supposed it was better than fighting your way up through the entire city.
Just outside of the heavy gates, there was a soaring stone bridge that passed over a river gorge. The water plummeted down an impressive waterfall into the city below. The bridge was sturdy and blissfully short, but Ben shuddered when he glanced over the side. He guessed it was twenty stories below where the waterfall ended violently in a rocky basin, which flowed into the manmade reservoir that supplied the city with fresh water.
Beyond the waterfall, the road was wide an
d well maintained. In places though, it was covered in a heavy mist from the turbulent White River crashing down over boulders and bends in the gorge. The morning was spent in constant shade and coupled with the mist, it was a damp and chilly way to wake up.
They travelled nearly a full day deeper into the mountains behind Whitehall until they found a clearing near the road and adjacent to a large pool in the river. The country was heavily wooded and mountainous so there was little development. It didn’t have the same series of small towns that led up to Fabrizo.
Rhys explained that once the others joined them, they would move up to the top of the mountain range and go through the Snowmar Pass. On the other side was the Sineook Valley which supplied the agricultural needs of Whitehall and many other cities on the Blood Bay. The Lords of the Sineook Valley were traditionally allegiant to Whitehall as all commerce to the East, most of what the valley produced and purchased, passed through Whitehall’s ports.
During the early morning travel, Ben had been afraid to broach the subject of the duel with Rhys. He didn’t know how the man would be affected by killing another person. He was expecting Rhys to bring it up himself. He had been very drunk the night before and Ben found it hard to believe he had a clear memory of everything that happened. Surely he had his own questions he wanted answered.
But as their journey progressed, he realized Rhys did not seem affected at all and was actually in a pretty jovial mood.
When they took their first rest, Renfro ended up being the one to break the ice. He collapsed onto a mossy log by the side of the road and complained, “Oh, man. How much more of this do we have until we see a proper city again?”
Ben felt bad for the young thief. He’d never been far out of Fabrizo and it was flat as a pancake. The entire journey for him so far had been aboard the ship.
“Just four more days of this until we reach Snowmar Station. All uphill by the way.” Rhys had a wicked grin as he observed Renfro’s crestfallen expression. “A little exercise is healthy for you. It will feel good once you get used to it.”
Ben couldn’t resist saying, “Rhys, I’m surprised you’re feeling so well. It was a bit of a rough night, wasn’t it?”
“Just go ahead and ask me.” Rhys smirked. “I know you’ve been stewing on it all morning. Let’s get it over with.”
“Okay, I guess I do want to know what happened last night.”
“You know what happened, Ben. The man called me out and he ended up dead. If I recall, you were there to watch it.”
“I was there,” bristled Ben, “which is why I’m a little surprised you recall anything at all about last night.”
“Ah, yes. Well, I wasn’t quite as bad as it seemed,” acknowledged Rhys. “Word of advice, if you’re truly in a state where you can’t see straight, then the best course of action is generally to just apologize and worry about fighting later. It’s not a good idea to bare steel when you’ve had too many cups. Better to make friends and have another cup.”
“So, it was an act. Why?”
Rhys unstopped his water skin and took a long drink. “It wasn’t entirely an act. I had to drink enough to make it look real. As to why, it needed to look accidental. Bad luck for poor Lord Fredrick that his wife’s drunken lover just happened to turn at the wrong moment. There were plenty of witnesses and not a one of them will think it was anything other than a crazy, tragic end to one of Wanda’s many affairs.”
“Hold on. I don’t understand. Are you saying you really killed Lord Fredrick for his Lady Wanda?”
“No, Ben,” Rhys answered with a sigh. “I killed Fredrick for you.”
Ben could only stare back, confused.
Rhys took another sip of water and frowned. “Fredrick apparently got himself into a bit of a pickle with the Thieves’ Guild in Fabrizo. Something about a missed payment and needing to make an example. You can explain how that goes, right?” He looked toward Renfro before continuing, “You two had a blood debt to the guild. Takes more money than I have to get out of that kind of debt. Blood though, that is easy enough to spill. The guild and I both had things we wanted and came to an agreement that satisfied both of our needs.”
“I-I had no idea,” stammered Ben. A friend had risked his life and an innocent man had died because of him. Ben slumped down next to Renfro on the log and stared at the ground. “But why? Why you? I mean, don’t they have people who do that kind of thing? Casper…”
Rhys picked up a rock and tossed it into the river. “Aye, anyone can cut a throat in the night, and you’re probably right, I suspect Casper has cut his share. Sometimes these things need a little more finesse. Lord Fredrick got into some things he shouldn’t have been involved in. He also had a lot of powerful friends—King Argren for one. The thieves may live outside the law, but they aren’t stupid. If Argren set his mind to it, he could crush them and everyone in Fabrizo who tried to stand with them—not that anyone would. They needed to get a message across without anyone in power being able to tie it back to them.”
“Why you? What if you hadn’t come along right when they needed it? And how did they know you could do it?” demanded Ben.
Rhys hung the water skin back on his belt and studied Ben. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been involved in something like this. The thieves had some suggestions and we spoke about options. They are aware of me and must have thought it was worth the risk to let you two go. They were very concerned others might see Fredrick get away and then start having their own ideas. If I hadn’t come along I’m sure they would have found someone else.”
“I just…” Ben couldn’t summon the words to express his thoughts.
“Give it some time, lad. I know you feel guilty, but that’s the way the world works sometimes. You or them. If it makes you feel better, Fredrick was a bad man. He got in with the guild then he betrayed them. He constantly cheated on and beat his wife. He made his choices and he was going to pay for them, whether or not we got involved.”
“Well, I for one, am thankful,” interjected Renfro. “You saved my life and I owe you. Whatever you need, just ask.”
Rhys rolled his eyes. “I’ll remember that. If I ever need a pocket picked or someone to make me look good on a hike, you’re the one I’ll ask for. Come on. Let’s get moving. We’re wasting daylight.”
The rest of the day was spent in silence except the constant huffing and puffing from Renfro and the occasional bird call. There were few other travelers out because people had either come into Whitehall for the Conclave already or weren’t leaving town while all of the excitement was going on.
The terrain reminded Ben of home and for the first time since he had left Farview, he felt a pang of homesickness. He was still excited for what lay ahead, but the real world was turning out to be a much uglier and more dangerous place than he had anticipated. In the stories, the dangers were always clear and everyone knew what was right and what was wrong.
By the time they spotted the clearing, Ben and Renfro were both ready to stop. Rhys seemed just as cheerful as he had been that morning and acted like he could hike all night. But even for Rhys with his boundless energy, the clearing was a good spot to stop and wait for the others. It was within a stone’s throw of the road so they wouldn’t miss their companions. Nearby, the White River tumbled over a short rapid into a broad, calm pool. It promised an easy water source and the potential for fish.
It was spring in the foothills of the mountains, so while it wasn’t hot, it would still be warm enough to camp in the open. Setting up camp just involved unloading their packs and gathering firewood to stack next to a well-used fire pit that must have been dug out decades or even centuries earlier.
They had sausage, cheese, and biscuits they’d brought from Whitehall and shortly after they ate, Renfro rolled up in his bedroll and fell asleep. Rhys packed a pipe full of tobacco and wandered the outskirts of the clearing while he smoked. Ben stared into the fire and thought.
It seemed his world was getting more complicated and
deadly. First, there was the encounter with the wagon driver at Murdoch’s. Protecting Meghan was clearly the right thing to do, and at worst, he would have taken a beating and been cut up a little. In Fabrizo, helping Renfro had been a more difficult decision because he didn’t know him, and the little thief had just tried to rob him, but it had nearly resulted in Ben’s death as well as Renfro’s. At the time, he thought it had been wrong to leave Renfro to die. He was glad he hadn’t, but would he make the same decision again? And he still wasn’t sure how he felt about Rhys killing Lord Fredrick. Rhys said Lord Fredrick was a bad man, but even if he was an evil man, would Ben have made the decision to trade Fredrick’s life for his? Casper the thief would have argued for that choice, but Ben didn’t want to be the kind of man who passed life and death judgment on others.
In the stories, the hero always saved the day and never had to face these types of decisions. You saw the monster, you fought the monster, and you saved the innocent damsel. But what if the person you were trying to save was a bad person—a thief? What if the monster was really your friend and was actually saving you?
Ben was still lost in his own thoughts when Rhys settled down across from him and tapped out his pipe into the fire.
“Still thinking about it?” he asked.
“Yeah,” replied Ben slowly. “I just keep going over it in my mind. You said this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this.”
“Like this? If you mean saved someone, it might be,” Rhys answered with a snort.
Ben sat up and looked at his friend. “You know what I meant.”
“No, Ben, that wasn’t the first time. I haven’t always been a good person. I’ve done a lot of things that maybe I shouldn’t have. Things I’ve learned over the years to regret, but saving you at the expense of a man like Fredrick? I don’t regret that.”